


Mischief

by Ribby



Category: The Prestige
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-07
Updated: 2007-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/pseuds/Ribby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fallon's had a lousy day... and Root is tipsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Short, fluffy, and completely goofy... this is all [](http://jou.livejournal.com/profile)[**jou**](http://jou.livejournal.com/)'s fault, as usual. Sparked by her fun little drawing [Mischief](http://community.livejournal.com/prestige_slash/24893.html#cutid1). Yes, I know, you want to know what mischief Freddie got up to... *grin* Still working on that...

  
Fallon trudged wearily through the cold London streets. He'd been The Professor today, and the show had been only sparsely attended... and the resulting argument with his brother had left him dispirited and on edge, and a little angry. And the cold slush where the snow hadn't quite melted wasn't helping.

So by the time he reached Root's rooms, he was cold, wet, and mad with the world. Slamming the door behind him, he stomped to the coat-rack and removed his wet overcoat and the equally soaked green scarf. He didn't call to Gerald, not wanting to greet him with the edge of anger in his voice. Besides, the slammed door should have been a clue to his mood.

He flung his coat over the nearest chair, leaving himself in just shirt and trousers. His foul mood was evaporating slowly, safe in the comfort of home.

"Freddie!" Root's entrance startled him, as did the effusive embrace. "You're home!" Slightly taken aback, he nevertheless wrapped his own arms around Root.

"Home, yes. But give me a minute, Gerry, my mood's not the best right now."

Gerald giggled. "I think I can help." Giggled? Freddie glanced down and saw the mostly-empty bottle of wine in Root's hand. Oh. This would be interesting. Gerald was maudlin and given to quoting Shakespeare when fully drunk--but slightly tipsy, he was uncommonly playful. And his eyes, at the moment, were full of mischief. Freddie began to worry.

"You look nervous, Freddie. Don't worry, I just want to make you feel better." Root's free hand wandered--as his hands were wont to do--over his back, rubbing out muscles tense from anger and frustration, relaxing him.

And just when he was most relaxed, Root grabbed the base of his suspenders, and snapped them. Hard. Giggled. And did it again.

And suddenly Freddie was in a much, much better mood--and felt like a little mischief of his own. Hmmm.... Gerry was always a bit ticklish....

  



End file.
